Daimyon nodded along and made eager notes as the Infinites brought up their alibis one after the other. As they spoke, the poet crossed their name off his list. They were making good progress, he thought, narrowing down the list of possible culprits quickly. Soon there were only four...three, two...one suspect left. One name left uncrossed.
His.
“W-what? There's no...way...” he murmured, drowned out by an angry Max shouting at him.
‘Twisted son of a bitch’, the officer called him. Murderer. He heard his every word but could not comprehend any of them. He glanced up for the first time from his notebook and immediately wished he hadn't. Everyone's eyes were on him. He sank back into the book in a desperate reach for protection, but the spotlight remained, burning his back. He was no longer the swallow, flapping its wings gracefully in the light—he felt like a startled cockroach, its primal reflexes urging it to scamper away from the blinding light. And he would have run, was there any place to. He would have pinched himself, woken up, forgotten everything.
There was nowhere to run. In his notebook, his own name stared back at him. He looked up, into Max's eyes. He was worryingly pale.
“I...didn't do it,” he muttered, repeating once more in a stronger voice,
“I didn't do it.”“No one else could've. Did you really think you'd get away with it?” Noel said, her arms crossed. “To be honest, though, this was one development I didn't expect. I—”
“—I didn't do it!” shouted Daimyon, banging on his trial desk with pathetic weakness.
“How could have I? I-in half an hour...cupboard's too heavy anyway...I, I don't know where to get strings o-or how to use them or where the rooms are or how to get in or who's cosplaying what or—”“Can we vote now? Fucker's gonna collapse of a heart attack soon,” Ice shrugged.
“No! I didn't do it!” Daimyon felt death's wind blow past him as the man spoke. He struggled to breathe, having to hold himself upright. From the corner of his eye he saw Monokuma, reaching for a hammer with its paws. It was now or never.
“None of this makes sense! I had no reason...no reason at all to kill anyone here! I...barely knew Jezebel, but I've noted that she and Zachary were together, and why would have I broken that? And Faith...I wanted to be her friend, just today! Look, it's all here!” He turned the notebook towards the others, not caring that they were all too far to read it.
“Look at me, while you're looking! A stronger wind would blow me right away. How could've I moved the cabinet that almost killed us? Where could've I gotten string? The knowledge to use it in any way other than to tie my shoes? How could I hurt someone who was defenceless—how could I hurt anyone?” He felt pathetic, firing off one weakness after the other, but he did not care about that. He cared about the disapproving look in his fellow Infinites' eyes—they did not believe him. His voice cracked, and his eyes welled up.
“Please, my friends...I'm a poet, nothing less, nothing more. I'm not a murderer.”“As I was saying...this
is an unlikely development, precisely because you don't have the...uh,
constitution of a murderer,” Noel asserted. “But I know you, Daimyon. You might be weak but you're more competent than you let on. With enough planning, you could've done this...unfortunately.”
“Planning? But I haven't...I haven't planned anything! That's it!” He wiped his eyes, only to have them clouded by more tears.
“I couldn't have done it, because I haven't planned anything!”Cyrus shook his head. “And how
exactly do you plan to prove that?”
“There's nothing in here about planning anything!” Once again, Daimyon turned his notebook to the rest, frantically leafing through its pages.
“Why would you need that notebook to plan? Could've done it in your head, or on some scrap paper.”
“N-no, not in my head, no... And I use no other paper but this notebook. But even if I did, I'd have to have it with me right now, and, and,” he quickly tapped the pockets of his jacket and trousers,
“I don't!”“Daimyon, stop. You're not making any sense,” Noel said.
“He's squirming, like a mouse caught in a trap. They all act the same,” added Max, ready to bring that hammer down on the culprit's head. “I suggest we vote.” General sounds of agreement came from the Infinites.
Max turned to Monokuma and was about to ask the bear officially, but Daimyon spoke first.
“No!” he shouted, rather.
“Y-y-you don't understand, I'm, I'm...“...I'm an amnesiac.”“What?!” came Noel's voice amidst the chorus of surprised ones. “So I was right on the—”
“Okay, hold on, everybody,” Cyrus quickly took control of the situation, turning to the poet. “To me this sounds like a desperate excuse, but I'm willing to hear you out. Speak and speak quickly.”
“I...haah...I'm an amnesiac,” Daimyon repeated, in a dizzying mix of disbelief and relief. He had never said these words out loud to others before, but suddenly they started flowing freely, as if an uncorked wine after decades of ageing.
“Anterograde amnesiac...total amnesiac. I don't remember the past and I can't remember the present. Whatever you tell me right now, I will forget in minutes. This is why this notebook is my most treasured possession,” he held the book to his heart,
“it's my memory. Everything about you, all of you, that I want to remember, is in here. Everything I want to do or have done is in here. Whatever isn't...well, it might as well not have happened, as far as I'm concerned.”“I can't believe you'd hold a secret like that for so long...” Max said through gritted teeth.
“I...I wouldn't be standing here today if I did. It is my greatest weakness, a disability that towers above all my imperfections. It makes me the...perfect victim and the worst murderer at the same time. To commit such an atrocity, I would've had to plan for days...write pages into this notebook about it, for I have no other. I offer it to anyone to page through, front to back...you won't find anything of the sort. It's all written in pen, which I can't and couldn't have erased. More than that, I would've had to hold onto my murder notes until the moment I committed it, and then beyond it to keep my story straight. It's...ha, what a silver lining. It makes murdering someone an almost impossible task for someone like me.”He wanted to say more, but he did not. A sad smile appeared on his lips as he wiped his tears away and stood up tall. It was out now. It was secret no more.